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Because of failed bizarre and complicated family matters, my mother and I found ourselves early one morning in Cleveland. What to do in Cleveland? Well, first there was the place I go in every town that has one, the baseball stadium. But after that there was the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame, where we spent most of our day. The museum was very cool and interesting, and if you’re ever near Cleveland, I’d recommend going. The outside of the building I find quite ugly, as is this snow pyramid I bought at the gift shop.

And I want to emphasize that I bought this thing. I have, at times, been known to just slip snow globes into my pocket, even with my mother around. But this one I picked up, regretted it was the only one they had, but paid for. Not that I didn’t think about taking it, but it was large and triangular, hard to conceal in a pair of shorts, unless I could have somehow positioned it so that the tip of the triangle would be confused with a hard on. I decided that I might as well just pay for it.

I waited in the checkout line behind my mother like a good cow, paid my money, got my bag and receipt, and walked out the exit, but as I did, I set off the alarms. My mother turned around and looked back at me giving the look of death but I tell her I didn’t take anything. Then a security guard started coming up to me with aggressive authority barking orders. I looked at him and recalled the same phrase that has popped into my head in similar situations, “The only power this guy has is the power I give him.” He yelled at me, and I yelled back “I didn’t take shit!”, turned, and brusquely walked away. My mother tried to convince me to stop as she by then stood between me and the security guard. But this time I was clean, I had done nothing wrong, and I had the arrogance of the truth. I was not going to waste my time and give this guy any power. I kept walking, the security guard did not give chase, and once completely off the museum property I stopped and waited for my mom to catch up. Got the “You’re being a rude immature ass” lecture, but so what? Rock ‘n Roll motherfucker!

It must not be easy to be my mother. We got in our rental car and decided to drive to Washington, D.C.